I'm writing this from the fabulous Imperial Palace Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Woo.

Closing went off without a hitch. Easiest thing I've ever done. Thanks to everyone for their support.

The flight here was the one of the most painful experiences of my life. Due continuing sinus problems, my left ear would not equalize pressure properly, reslting in near-paralyzing pain for almost four hours. Yes, I know all the little tricks for getting ears to pop. No, they didn't work. Trust me, I've been flying for thirty years. When we got here, Mel revved up and went gambling, I had a few drinks and collapsed in a coma while the overly loud band at Harrah's outside bar played "Rock You Like A Hurricane" until 0300 or so. This year's Rollercon is shaping up to be less entertaining than last years, or maybe I just need to change my attitude.

In other news, what do you call someone who dosen't write or call his best friend or six months, and misses his birthday? A bad friend. Or Chris. Same thing.
I'm sorry, b. I'll call you when I get home.

Sick again. Motherfucker.

Here's a fun story:
I hate going to the doctor. Really, really, hate it. I don't have a phobia or anything; I just don't like waiting around for a ridiculously long time before a doctor comes in and asks me a few somewhat random questions, nods solemnly, and says "It's a virus. You should feel better in a week. But if you don't, then it's bacterial, and we'll start you on antibiotics."
Well, thanks for that. It's good to know that I'll only be sidelined for two or three weeks, max. For what is essentially a cold. And then I'll get to deal with the insurance company. What a colossal waste of time.

Today at the local sports-themed haircut place (just shut up, they do an acceptable job), I was watching one of the many, many television sets as a bored employee flipped through the channels. She paused for just a second at a bold-looking title screen that read:
"World Cup of Poo"
...or so I thought. As it turns out, the oblique viewing angle I was at cut off the ending "L" from my perspective. How long did I have to think about this before I figured it out? Pretty damned long. No man should have to sit in a barber chair for ten minutes thinking that there is such a sporting event on cable t.v.

This might be the worst possible time to be sick. I don't know when the best time to be sick is, but I do know that is not when you need to be setting up home inspections, termite inspections, dropping off papers to your lender, going to roller derby practice and band practice. Am I pathetic? Yes I am.

Yeah, so, I was at a party the other day and someone mentioned that a mutual friend had a great blog, and then we talked about blogging, and I thought of this thing, all covered in dust, hungry and cold, scared and alone in the dark corners of the web, waiting for me to post some random, poorly-written trivia about my life. So here I am, nourishing my blog, spurred on not by pride, but out of a nagging feeling that these little electrons may well be the only mark I leave on earth.

Also, I am buying house. Right now I'm basking in the warm and fuzzy feeling of accomplishment that I get from having come from the very brink of financial ruin five years ago to soon-to-be homeowner. It is true that the lion's share of the work to make me into a responsible human was done by Mel, but I'm proud anyway. I close on the 29th.

Oh, and the roommate I mentioned in the last post has been the greatest roomate ever, despite his lack of doing dishes and his obsession with World of Warcraft. It's been a great time, Josh, and we'll miss you. And your unicorn.